


Mine

by Anonymous_Introvert78



Series: Seventeen Hurt/Comfort [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Blood and Violence, But I won't, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Description, Hong Jisoo | Joshua-centric, Hostage Situations, Hurt/Comfort, I should go to bed, Inappropriate Stuff, Protective Dongsaengs, Protective Hyungs, Protective S.Coups, Sasaeng Fan(s), So yeah, Stalking, Strong Language, a lot of blood, and letters, and stalking, but it's really slight, it's all a bit messed up, just be careful, like texting, slightest bit of non-con, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-08-02 15:42:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 18,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16307999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Introvert78/pseuds/Anonymous_Introvert78
Summary: ~~~~~~~~~~~"What if they kill him? It'll be too late then."~~~~~~~~~~~





	1. Joshua Hong

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know what this story is. Let's just go with the flow. The chapters will be quite short but I'm going to try and update daily.  
> Truth be told, I am very unhappy with this work. I don't like the way I wrote it but no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to fix it. But I have this policy that I can't post one story until I've posted the one I wrote before it and I'm working on one that I'm really proud of so I'm just going to throw this out there and see what happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Recommendation:  
> "Sapphire Blue" by Super Junior

I'm writing a thirteen-part series! One story for each member.

It's going to take forever to plan but please be patient because the next story is definitely coming but I'd already written this one before I knew I was going to create a series so it was already here beforehand. 

**TRIGGER WARNING!!!!**

This story contains potentially triggering content such as non-graphic and very minor non-con that occurs in Chapter Twelve so it is easily skippable if that sort of thing upsets you. If you do choose to read that, however, I urge you to be cautious if there is any chance that it might affect you.

 

**There will be no major character death in this series.**

 

 

 


	2. 제 1 장

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Recommendation:  
> "I Do Love You" by Monsta X

             “Wake up,” came the whisper in Joshua’s ear, jolting him into a panicked state of semi-consciousness. He tried to sit up but felt something heavy pressed into his chest, weighing him down and pinning him to the cold, hard floor.

There was the sound of laughter echoing above him and he opened his mouth to cry out just as the water was poured onto his face, the iciness cascading down his throat, displacing his oxygen. He tried to draw breath but all that came out was a strenuous gargle and he started to choke.

“Shit, sorry, hyung.”

The weight shifted from his chest and he was pulled into a sitting position, a palm thumping the space between his shoulder blades as he wretched and wheezed until the water either slid safely down his throat or dribbled out of his mouth.

He opened his eyes and saw Wonwoo crouched in front of him, a hand on his shoulder and his lips pursed in an attempt to hide his smirk.

“You good?” Jun popped into view from where he’d been slapping Joshua’s back. His face was also contorted into a pathetic excuse for an expression of concern, his mouth giving him away as it tilted upwards at either end.

“I’m gonna … choke you in your sleep …” Joshua spluttered, his hoarse voice cracking in the middle of his sentence and eliciting a barely concealed snort from both his dongsaengs.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Wonwoo chuckled. “I swear we weren’t intending to drown you.”

“Your phone went off,” Jun filled in, handing Joshua the device that had thankfully escaped the waterboarding session. “You were asleep and we couldn’t resist.”

Joshua snatched his phone and the jumper that Wonwoo handed him, swiping it across his face to soak up the excess moisture before throwing it at his targets. The two of them shrieked as the damp cotton came soaring their way and leapt up, skidding across the studio and screaming for Jeonghan to save them.

Shaking his head with a mixture of irritation and amusement, Joshua turned on his phone and felt the frown lines creasing his forehead.

 

 **From:** Unknown number

_I just wanted to say that I absolutely love you and how hard you work. I hope one day I’ll get the honour of meeting you. Please know that you’ll always be my favourite and I’d do anything to make you mine!_ _J_ _ <3 <3 <3 xoxo_

He blinked.

It could be a wrong number. It was more than likely it was a wrong number. But a twinge of uneasiness in his gut wasn’t giving him any reassurance.

Sure, it was harmless. Just a giddy schoolgirl fawning over his image on a screen or his voice on a tape. But it was the first time his number had ever been leaked. The fact made him feel slightly violated.

At Soonyoung’s rallying call, Joshua tossed his phone into his bag and heaved himself off the floor to join the others just before practise resumed. As long as he didn’t respond to the message, the sender would either realise they had crossed a line or would believe they had gotten the wrong number.

The following hours of exhaustion at the rigorous dance routines and laughter at Seungkwan and Seokmin’s impromptu improvisation halfway through a song, cleared Joshua of all thoughts concerning the bizarre text message.

It didn’t revisit his mind until he woke up the next morning.


	3. 제 2 장

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Recommendation:  
> "Baby Don't Like It" by NCT 127

            Groaning with childish reluctance at being thrust back into the land of the living, Joshua reached his arms above his head, fingers brushing the bed’s headboard and feet dangling off the edge of the mattress. He rolled onto his stomach and reached, bleary-eyed, for his phone on the bedside table.

The brightness of the screen forced a squint from his protesting eyes but the moment he saw the unread messages, all traces of drowsiness fled.

He bolted into a sitting position, the corner of his duvet catching the glass of water on the table and sending it toppling. It shattered, a dozen crystallised diamonds skittering over the floorboards to rest in a puddle of undrunk liquid.

In the bed across the room, Hansol grunted in irritation but Joshua was already leaping over the treacherous hazard and skidding out of the door by the time his fellow American raised his tousled head.

Joshua burst into Seungcheol’s room, ignoring Jeonghan’s yelp of surprise as the door reverberated off the wall. The leader looked up sharply at the abrupt entrance, brow furrowed in annoyance. But at the look of pure distress on Joshua’s face, he kicked aside his blankets and shuffled to the edge of his bed, gesturing for his dongsaeng to approach him.

Joshua stumbled forwards, wincing as he felt a stray glass shard dig deeper into the flesh of his foot, and handed Seungcheol the phone without an explanation. There were no words for what was written on the screen.

He stood there, trying to calm himself, watching Jeonghan pad over from his bed to peer over Seungcheol’s shoulder, sleepy eyes skimming the messages.

There were three of them, all at least ten lines. And each contained graphic depictions of what the sender wanted to do with Joshua’s body if they _“ever had the honour of making it mine”._ The detail was spine-chilling.

Seungcheol finished reading and raised his eyes to the terrified boy in front of him while Jeonghan snatched the phone from his grasp and continued to read and re-read the appalling fantasies inscribed in a text at an ungodly hour of the morning.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Seungcheol called out, pushing off the bed and taking Joshua’s face in his hands, ensuring their eyes were locked. “It’s just some crazy fan trying to get a response out of you. I’ll call Manager-hyung, we’ll change your number and you’ll never hear from her again. Understood?”

Finally able to breathe a little easier, Joshua nodded as Jeonghan also rose from the bed and pulled him into a one-armed hug. He didn’t relinquish his hold until Joshua indicated he was ready for him to do so.

“How about pancakes?” he said and Joshua smirked at the patronising question usually directed at Chan or Minghao.

“Sounds good,” he replied and Seungcheol squeezed his shoulder.

“You two go ahead. I’m gonna make the call now.”

Joshua nodded his appreciation and reached for the phone that lay discarded on the bed. Wordlessly and yet adamantly, Jeonghan intercepted his hand and used it to drag him out of the room, putting as much space between Joshua and those Godawful texts as he could.

Looking back, he realised he should have bundled Joshua into a car and rushed him halfway across the country. If he'd done that, what happened might not have happened.


	4. 제 3 장

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Recommendation:  
> "Lukewarm" by Pentagon

          There were two days between Joshua changing his number and the arrival of the first letter. Two days of blissful ignorance to the world of torment and terror that was about to befall him. Two days in which he managed to forget that someone out there was drooling over his picture, imagining all sorts of unholy things they wanted to do with him.

But with the appearance of the letter came the familiar sensation of vulnerability.

“Hyung’s got fanmail!” Chan hollered as he deposited the envelope in Joshua’s cereal, darting out of the way before he could be punished for the now-milk-sodden paper.

Joshua dabbed at the moisture before slitting open the fold and pulling out the insides. Letters from fans were a joy to read. There was nothing more touching than listening to a young person spill their heart out, telling them just how they had touched their lives and helped them through the toughest of times. It wasn’t unusual for one of them to be brought to tears – usually Seungkwan.

But this letter did not bring such pleasure.

He felt his grip tightening on the edges of the paper the further he read, eyebrows rising towards his untidy hairline and heart rate increasing with every sentence.

It was a poem. A poorly written one to say the least. The rhymes were cliché and childlike and the confessions of love were just plain disturbing, particularly with the concluding line: _‘I love you so much it makes me want to hang myself.’_

Half-digested cereal crawled its way back up his throat and he pressed his lips together in an attempt not to gag. He turned the letter over, hoping, praying, begging that there would be some kind of indication that all of this was a cruel joke from Jun and Wonwoo.

What was there instead turned his anxiety into full-fledged panic.

The other side of the paper was a collage of photographs. There were mugshots from album covers, whitewashed images of him performing on stage and then there were the others. The ones no one should have had access to. The ones of him in the closed-off section of a restaurant with the vocal unit. The ones of him leaving the studio in the middle of the night. The ones of him plodding up the driveway towards the dorm.

Someone had been following him.

They had discovered where he worked and where he lived. He had been in that restaurant almost two months ago. How long had he been oblivious to a stalker hiding in the shadows, able to pounce at any moment? What if they tried something? What if they couldn’t find him so they settled on one of the others? Who would it be? Chan? Jihoon? They were the smallest. They wouldn’t be able to fight back and he wouldn’t be able to protect them because he didn’t know the first thing about this faceless threat or what they were capable of and there was no way this was just some giddy schoolgirl with a crush because this was real and this person knew what they wanted and they knew how to get it and there was nothing he could do to stop them and …

“Joshua!”

His head snapped up, eyes wide and heart rate erratic, to see twelve pairs of eyes staring at him from various spots around the kitchen. He hadn’t realised that ragged hyperventilating sound had been coming from him.

Seungcheol hurried forwards, snagging the letter from his trembling hands and pulling him out of his chair. Joshua could distantly hear Jeonghan telling the others that everything was fine as he was dragged down the hallway and pushed onto the couch in the living room.

“Breathe, Shua,” Seungcheol insisted as he crouched before him, eyes flicking back and forth between Joshua’s face and the letter. He swore under his breath before holding the paper above his head so Jeonghan could take it and read for himself.

“Shua, look at me.”

Joshua looked up at his leader, trying to analyse every detail of the face in front of him and letting the calmness transfer into his body. His shoulders sagged and he buried his face in his hands.

Someone had been following him for months.

“I’m gonna call the police,” he heard Seungcheol whispering above him before it was Jeonghan’s hand that was caressing his leg, thumb rubbing gently back and forth over his denim-clothed kneecap.  

“It’s gonna be okay, Joshuaji … Hyung’s sorting it out.”

But years of a friendship close enough to easily be passed off as something more had taught Joshua to listen for the traces of a lie in Jeonghan’s voice. And he could hear the uncertainty, the hint of anxiety, the attempt at jovialness that seemed to be more to reassure himself than his dongsaeng.

And if even Jeonghan couldn’t make light of this situation in the way he always did when something serious happened, it meant that this was really, really bad.


	5. 제 4 장

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Recommendation:  
> "Take Your Hand" by VIXX

        “You’re not going to do anything?” Seungcheol spluttered, staring in wide-eyed disbelief across the kitchen table.

The police officer folded her hands in front of her, leaning forward in her seat slightly and addressing Seungcheol with the air of a patient parent dealing with a petulant child.

“I’m afraid,” she said in an infuriatingly patronising tone, “that no actual crime has been committed. There are no laws against sending text messages or letters to a celebrity. There is nothing the police department can do.”

“They know where I live!” Joshua cried out, gesturing vaguely with his hands to display his distress. “They’ve got pictures of me that no one should have.”

“I’m sorry but it isn’t enough evidence to warrant an arrest. I can give you my number in case anything does happen …”

“So we’re just supposed to wait until they come for him?” Seungcheol pushed back in his chair, scrubbing his hands over his face in clear frustration.

“Can’t you do something?” Joshua pleaded, aware of how childish he sounded but too desperate to care. “There are kids here.”

“What if they try to kill him? What if they shoot him in the back on his way home? It’ll be too late then, won’t it?”

Joshua flinched at Seungcheol’s words. Sure, the thought had crossed his mind and he’d managed to convince himself it was just the paranoia talking, but there were too many personal accounts of stalking out there that had ended in an attempt on the victim’s life for him to remain oblivious to the threat.

The officer spoke again. Slow and calm and patient. And it was excruciating.

“There is no indication that this will progress into physical violence.”

“This is so fucked up!” Seungcheol yelled, leaping out of his chair and sending it toppling over backwards onto the floor. He turned away from the table, visibly fuming and interlocking his fingers behind his head in an attempt to regulate his breathing.

“Seungcheol, that’s enough,” their manager barked before turning to the police officer. “Thank you for your time.”

Joshua distinctly heard a mutter of “fat lot of good it did” from Seungcheol before the woman slid a card across the table towards him.

“My number,” she said. “In case you need anything.”

Nodding vacantly, he watched as the manager ushered her out of the room. The moment they were out of earshot, Seungcheol crouched down in front of Joshua’s chair so that they were staring right at each other.

“I don’t care what she says,” he said, his expression dead serious. “Take no risks. Don’t go out alone, have someone with you at all times, don’t open any letters, don’t talk to any strangers. If you even feel the slightest indication that someone is watching you, start running and don’t stop until you’re somewhere safe. If you’re cornered or hurt, scream like there’s no fucking tomorrow. If someone tries to grab you then punch, kick, bite, do whatever you have to do to get away. Have you got that, Shua?”

Joshua nodded, his throat too constricted for a verbal reply. This was all too surreal for words. Things had escalated so quickly from a harmless text message to a clear indication that someone had been following him for weeks. It was terrifying.

“Do we tell the others?” he whispered.

“No,” Seungcheol replied without a second’s hesitation. “They’ll freak out. I’ll tell them Manager-hyung wants a lockdown on security and they can’t go anywhere without notifying someone first but they don’t need to know why. So I know you’re scared but you need to keep it together, alright?”

“Okay.”

Seungcheol took his hands, squeezing his fingers tightly.

“Nothing is going to happen to you, Shua. Do you believe me?”

“Yes.”

_No._


	6. 제 5 장

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Recommendation:  
> "L4L" by Bobby (iKON) feat. Dok2 & The Quiett

              With each new dawn came another letter, awaiting patiently for someone to scoop it off the doormat and deliver it to its owner. With each new dawn came another round of bemused questions from the youngsters as Jeonghan dropped the envelope in the blender before it could be opened. With each new dawn came another reason for Joshua’s anxiety to grow.

He found himself constantly looking over his shoulder to the point where he had just given up all hope and refused to leave the dorm unless it was to attend a schedule, protesting wildly when one of the maknaes said they were going out for ice cream or extra practise sessions. 

His phone screen hadn’t stopped lighting up, the pixels flashing before his eyes at least a dozen times a day, accompanied by a petulant _Bing!_ every time another message came through. Seungcheol had eventually thrown the device in the trash and got Joshua a new one, changing his number for the second time in a week. It did nothing to stop the onslaught of textual harassment.

And the others were beginning to notice that something was wrong. From the way Joshua would constantly glance out of the window and the way he would keep a vice-like grip on Chan every time they were forced to leave the building. And the way that Seungcheol would converse with security guards in hushed tones with frown lines carved into his unusually tired face, and with Jeonghan making tiny snowstorms in the blender with unopened envelopes every morning, it was starting to get impossible to ignore that something very, very big was going on.

But they deflected questions. All of them. Until one day they didn’t have to. The day that there were no letters sitting on the doormat with Joshua’s name stamped in great big looping letters. The day everything went wrong.

          Mingyu stared at the cough syrup with disgust before he threw back his head and downed the yellowish liquid in one, trying hard not to gag too violently. He felt the sticky treacle-like substance sliding repulsively down his throat and inwardly cursed Chan for sharing his bout of flu with him.

The second he’d started to cough, the others had condemned him to babysitting the maknae while they were shipped off for a radio interview. Needless to say, he was bitter and grumpy and feeling the oncoming headache building up behind his eyes.

His guilty instincts overwhelmed him, however, when he heard the unmistakable and sadly all-too-familiar sounds of Chan throwing up in the bathroom. He knocked gingerly on the door, wincing with sympathy at the croaky and pitifully weak reply of “Yeah?” that came from within. 

“Do you need help?” he asked, half of him wishing the answer would be ‘no’ because dealing with vomit right now wouldn’t help him keep down his own breakfast.

“’m good …” came the exhausted moan followed by another round of heaving and retching.

“I’m gonna put some water by your bed.”

The response was an indecipherable grunt of acknowledgement but Mingyu was already plodding wearily down the stairs to the kitchen.

He turned on the tap and was watching the water gradually filling to the top of the glass when something caught his eye in the window in front of him. He glanced up instinctively and the glass slipped from his hands, making a loud cracking noise as it hit the bottom of the basin.

Startling himself with his own clumsiness, Mingyu ducked to the floor, pressing his back against the kitchen cupboards, wheezing in deliberately long breaths, and praying that he hadn’t been seen by the masked figure that was making their way up his driveway.

There was no reason for anybody to be approaching their dorm. It was located away from the public streets in case any of them were ever recognised in the garden or at a window. And there was certainly no reason for anybody to be approaching their dorm with their face concealed from view and their body clad in black.

Steeling himself and silently cursing the sound of his own thumping heartbeat, he clambered to his feet and peered cautiously through the window, crouching low in an attempt to remain hidden.

The figure was nearing the door with every passing second. Their steps were steady and determined and there was no hesitation. They wanted to be there.

A backpack swung from one jacketed shoulder, its flatness indicating that it was empty, but it was the hand that caught Mingyu’s attention. The gloved hand that was carrying a crowbar.

The blood pumping through his veins at an unhealthily erratic frequency turned to ice and he felt his breath hitch in his throat as his chest constricted like he was being suffocated.

That person was coming in whether he liked it or not.


	7. 제 6 장

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Recommendation:  
> "Honestly" by Monsta X

       Mingyu had to lock the door and at least delay the invasion long enough to call the police. But Chan was still here, sick and weak and completely defenceless. There would be no filibustering over priorities.

Stealth was traded for speed as he bounded up the stairs, two at a time, using the bannisters to propel him forwards. He heard the first attempt at entry, the scraping of the crowbar as it wiggled into the space between door and frame. One hard push and it would give.

The bathroom was empty as he barrelled past it and he burst into Chan’s room. Ignoring the feverish grunt of bewilderment, he swept the maknae up in his arms with the ease of lifting a ragdoll. There was no time to convince the bundle of snot and sickness to get up and walk.

He started towards the door, his mind set on locking them both in the bathroom while he called the police. But then there was the distinct sound of the front door splintering as it was kicked open and Mingyu realised there was no chance he could cross the hallway and not be heard.

Mind whirring with adrenaline and fear and determination to protect, he carried Chan into the closet, setting him down on the floor as gently as he could in his panicked state before pulling the doors closed behind them.

It was almost completely pitch black, except for the stray sliver of light peeking through from the gap where the wooden slates met. Curled up on the floor beside him, Chan gave a sleepy groan.

“Wha’s goin’ on?”

Mingyu grabbed hold of the maknae and pulled him deeper into the depths of the closet, trying to conceal them from view should the doors be opened.

“Nothing, Chan-ah,” he breathed, not daring to raise his voice even a decibel for fear of being discovered. “We’re playing a game. Go back to sleep.”

“I don’ wanna play,” Chan whined, swatting at the hands that tried to cover his mouth.

“Please, Channie,” Mingyu begged. “Please stay quiet. Just go to sleep.”

He thanked every being that was holy in Heaven when Chan gave a huff of defeat and slumped against the wall, leaden eyes laying to rest. Mingyu’s hands trembled so violently that he almost dropped the phone as he slid it from his pocket, cursing at the difficulty his undersized jeans caused him.

His fingers slipped on the keys, poking at the wrong numbers too many times before he finally pressed the CALL button. The sound of the dial tone droning in bored couplets seemed deafening in the silence and his mind kept telling him that any second now, those doors would be wrenched open and a crowbar would come down on his head.

The most terrifying thought was that once he was a pile of broken bones and brain matter on the floor, there would be nobody to protect Chan.

The call connected.

“Hey, Mingyu-ah, how are …?”

“Hyung, there’s someone in the house.”

 

          Seungcheol’s airy demeanour was shattered the second he heard the hoarse, terrified whisper on the other end of the line. Dread seeped through his insides, loading his veins with ice and sending his heart into overdrive.

“Mingyu-ah, where are you?” he hissed, not daring to raise his voice in case it somehow alerted the intruder to his friend’s whereabouts.

“In the closet with Chan.”

Seungcheol threw out an arm, his fingers curling into the fabric of the first sweater it found. Without even identifying who it was, he dragged them out of the recording room and into the corridor.

“What’s going on?” It was Seokmin.

“Call the police,” Seungcheol ordered. “Tell them someone’s broken into the dorm.”

Seokmin’s eyes widened in shock but he grabbed his phone without a moment’s hesitation, punching in the necessary numbers and bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited for the call to connect.

“Hyung …” came the hitched gasp from the other end of Seungcheol’s line. Mingyu was crying. “Hyung, I can hear him coming up the stairs.”

“Stop talking, Mingyu-ah. Don’t move a muscle.”

He stood there, clutching the phone to his ear with both hands and staring desperately at Seokmin as he relayed their address to the emergency operator. Seungcheol blocked him out, trying to hone in on listening to Mingyu’s ragged breathing.

The door to the recording room cracked open and Jeonghan poked his head through.

“Seungkwan-ah’s not feeling well so I sent …” he faltered and broke off at the sight of two terrified faces staring back at him with saucer-like eyes.

“Where’s Seungkwan?”

“He felt ill so I sent him home. Why? What’s …?” he was abruptly cut off as Seokmin swore and grabbed a fistful of his own hair.

“Call him back!” Seungcheol cried, feeling thick tentacles of panic entangling his insides and squeezing the breath out of him. “Tell him not to go near the house.”

“Hyung …”

“Just do it, Jeonghan!”

Jeonghan flinched at the snap. Seungcheol knew he’d never spoken to him like that before but any trace of guilt was forgotten when he looked down at his phone screen.

The call had ended. 


	8. 제 7 장

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I merged two chapters together this time because I figured I'd tortured you all enough with cliffhangers.
> 
> Song Recommendation:  
> "Sing For You" by Exo

           Mingyu heaved the wooden chest of shoes across the carpeted floor, pleading under his breath for the soft dragging noises not to get any louder. The doors opened outwards so there was no point trying to barricade them. The only thing he could do was hide Chan and pray that the police would get here soon.

He shoved the chest in front of the maknae as he slept peacefully and obliviously in the corner. His head still protruded from over the top but any further camouflage attempts were postponed by the creaking of the floorboards that meant the intruder had reached the landing.

He wanted to cry and the thought shamed him. He was the biggest out of all of them, the strongest, the fittest, and he was cowering in a closet in the dark. His trembling hand reached for the phone on the floor but as he picked it up, all he heard was Seungcheol yelling at somebody else on the other end.

Too afraid the raised voices would be heard, Mingyu ended the call, plunging himself into a silence that was broken only by his own deliberately slow breaths.

The footsteps were converging down the hallway, closer to Chan’s room with every passing second … But then they were walking past, moving on into the back of the house.

He flinched as a cacophony of thumps and thuds drifted to their hiding place, accompanied by glass shattering, drawers opening and some kind of aerosol being sprayed.

He suddenly found himself wishing he hadn’t hung up the phone. He wanted to hear Seungcheol’s voice telling him that it would all be okay, that the police were on their way, that no one was going to hurt him. His imagination was running wild, showing him images of them arriving home, opening up the closet and finding him and Chan beaten and bloody and very, very dead.

The footsteps were coming back, the creaking of the floorboards indicating their approach. Mingyu wanted to reach for Chan’s hand and find comfort in the touch but he feared waking the kid and subjecting him to the same terror he was feeling right now.

Would it be better to cover his ears? Then he wouldn’t know what was happening until it happened. Would it be better to grab Chan and make a run for it? Or just sprint for the door by himself and draw the intruder away from the closet? But fear kept him rooted to the spot with his knees tucked up to his chest and his hands clasped together in desperate prayer.

“Hyung, what happened to the door?”

Mingyu’s heart stopped.

He was sure it actually ceased to pump blood and had decided that death was better than processing what he had just heard.

Seungkwan was downstairs. And had just revealed his position to the faceless freak who had broken into their house with a crowbar.

 

There was a thundering of boots on the steps, a splintering thud and a scream worthy of a pitch that only Seungkwan could reach. And before Mingyu knew what he was doing, he was tripping over his own feet as he crashed down the stairs and threw himself between Seungkwan and the crowbar that was held aloft and ready to taste blood.

There was a hole in the wall, just about level with Seungkwan’s eyeline and Mingyu felt bile rise in his throat at the thought of the kid not being able to duck in time. He groped blindly behind him, not daring to take his eyes off the metal pointed directly at his face, daring him to make a move.

His hands finally found Seungkwan and he hauled him up off the floor from where he’d been crouched in pure undiluted terror and concealed him behind his own gigantic frame. Absolutely nothing was going to touch him. That was the promise he made himself. Absolutely nothing.

He heard the kid whimper from behind him and wanted desperately to turn around and engulf him in a hug but his petrification and racing heart rate told him that the second he turned his back, he would feel metal teeth digging into his skin. Instead, he focused all his attention on the figure in front of him properly for the first time.

They were short. Really short. And from the curves protruding from underneath the clothes, he realised with a spasm of surprise that the monster he had been envisioning in his head was a girl.

He could only see her widened eyes over the top of her mask and under the hood of her black jumper but he could sense she was just as afraid as he was. And from the way the crowbar shook as it remained pointed at them, he deduced that she hadn’t been expecting an interruption.

Mingyu took a tentative step back, Seungkwan still held tightly in his grip, but his eyes remaining fixed on that crowbar. Even though she was smaller than him, it didn’t take a great deal of strength to do some serious damage with a thing like that.

“I’ve called the police,” he said with as much courage as he could muster, thankful when his voice didn’t display the tremor he was feeling in every muscle.

He saw her stiffen, pupils dilating in fear.

“You got what you came for,” Mingyu continued, nodding at the bulging backpack clinging to her shoulders. He dared not think what was inside. He just wanted her in a different zip code as Chan and Seungkwan. “Now leave before they come. We haven’t seen your face. We don’t know who you are. Just go.”

As if on cue, the distant warble of an approaching siren cut through the silence. The girl’s eyes darted between Mingyu and the open – broken – door.

“Just go!” he yelled with as much ferocity as he could, feeling Seungkwan flinch under his grip.

She bolted, flinging herself out the front door and sprinting down the driveway with the bag bouncing on her back and the thankfully-unneeded crowbar swinging at her side.  

Mingyu slammed the door behind her, indifferent to the fact that it wouldn’t close properly but just wanting to put a barrier between her and them. He turned and saw Seungkwan sliding down the wall onto the floor with a thump, chest heaving in shocked relief.

“Are you okay?” Mingyu choked, staggering towards him before his own knees wobbled and he sunk onto the bottom of the stairs. “Are you hurt?”

Seungkwan shook his head, tears starting to dribble down his cheeks as he let out the trembling breath he’d been holding. Mingyu crawled over to him, wrapping his arm around his shoulders.

“It’s okay. It’s safe. You’re okay.”

“Hyung?”

His head snapped up, reactive instincts still on full alert, but all he saw was Chan, paper pale and sweating profusely, wavering at the top of the stairs and clutching the banister for support. He didn’t know how long the kid had been standing there. He didn’t know how much he’d heard.

“Come here, Channie,” he whispered, stretching out his arm to envelope the maknae in his hug.

The three of them sat there, huddled in the hallway with Seungkwan softly sobbing into Mingyu’s jumper until the police arrived.


	9. 제 8 장

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Recommendation:  
> "Forever Rain" by RM (BTS)

         Joshua had already ripped off his seatbelt and scrambled out the door before the engine had even turned off. Throughout the drive, he had remained tense and silent, repeating to himself that he was the hyung to most of the others and if he panicked, they would too. But the moment he saw the police car in the driveway, he couldn’t help himself.

There was no way this wasn’t connected to his letters. It was far too coincidental that the first morning in a week he hadn’t received one was the day his house was broken into. If anyone was hurt … He didn’t even want to think about how ruthlessly he would torture himself.

He was the first one through the door, barely even registering the dent in the splintered wood and the catch that was lying discarded on the mat. Bursting into the living room, he spun several times before he finally caught sight of the two people squashed together on the couch, Mingyu’s long arm clamping Seungkwan to his side as he conversed with the police officer in a hushed tone.

Joshua dropped to his knees in front of them, taking Seungkwan’s face in his hands and pulling his head up so that their eyes could meet, ignoring the disgruntled huff from the officer he’d shoved aside. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, hands running over his dongsaeng’s body in their search for injuries. When Seungkwan nodded deftly, he turned his attention to Mingyu.

“We’re fine, hyung. We’re fine.”

Joshua scoured the room and his heart skipped a beat.

“Channie …”

“Upstairs sleeping. He didn’t see anything,” Mingyu interrupted, taking Joshua’s hand and squeezing the stress out of his tense muscles. “There’s not a scratch on any of us.”

That was when Joshua noticed for the first time that Seungcheol and Jun had been standing behind him.

“Jun, take Seungkwan upstairs,” Seungcheol said softly and Jun nodded, sliding his arm around Seungkwan’s waist and pulling him from the couch.

The leader watched as the two shuffled towards the stairs and slowly started to ascend before he addressed the others who were still standing shell-shocked in the hallway, staring at the broken door.

“Everyone, wait in your rooms. I’ll call a meeting when we know what happened.”

It was moments like this when Seungcheol was obeyed without question and Jeonghan had shepherded the others up the stairs within moments. Joshua stood up to follow but his hyung held him back and pushed him down on the sofa with Mingyu.

“Stay.” He then turned to the impatiently waiting police officer – the same one from the other day – with an expression of barely-concealed fury on his face. “Are you going to do something now?”

The officer looked sheepishly down at her notebook, trying to pass her shame off as reading her etchings.

“Sir, there is no evidence to suggest that this incident was related to the recent  …”

“No!” Seungcheol spat. Joshua didn’t know where the ice in his voice had come from but he’d never been more afraid of his hyung in his life. “You know as well as I do that this was the same person who’s been sending letters to my house and threatening to do some pretty terrifying things to someone I’m supposed to protect. I could have come home to find three dead bodies because you refused to do your own fucking job!”

Joshua knew Seungcheol was being dramatic. He knew he was probably scaring Mingyu whose eyes were flicking between officer and leader as though he was watching a high-speed tennis match. But he agreed that this woman in front of them had neglected a clear threat and it could have ended catastrophically.

“So what are you going to do about it?”

The officer opened her mouth but was spared a likely-unsatisfactory answer by the clumsy arrival of Hansol. 

“Hans …” Seungcheol started, throwing his hands up in exasperated anger, but Hansol cut him off.

“I’m sorry, hyung. But you need to come see this.” 

Joshua met Seungcheol’s eye before they followed Hansol up the stairs, down the hallway, where the soft murmur of voices could be heard coming from behind Chan’s door, and into the Americans’ room. Joshua’s heart had been pounding in his mouth at an unnatural speed right up until the door was opened. Then it stopped altogether.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM FREAKING OUT BECAUSE THERE HAVE BEEN THREE - THREE, PEOPLE, THIS IS NOT A FUCKING DRILL - MUSIC VIDEOS RELEASED T.O.D.A.Y.  
> 1 - STRAY KIDS (I Am You)  
> 2 - MONSTA X (Shoot Out)  
> 3 - KIM FREAKING NAMJOON (Forever Rain)  
> I AM DEAD


	10. 제 9 장

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really like this chapter. Scratch that. I don't like this chapter at all. It has some really creepy and inappropriate stuff in it and I really hated writing it but I wanted to give this story a kind of thriller/horror-feel so I did it anyway. It's kind of twisted and it makes me feel very dirty and very guilty so I'm just going to stop rambling and hide before I embarrass myself further.
> 
> Song Recommendation:  
> "Hi, Hello" by Day6

           Seungcheol swore under his breath as he stumbled into the middle of the floor and turned slowly on the spot, taking in the damage.

The room had clearly been ransacked. Drawers were open, some of them hanging precariously on the precipice of falling out and clothes belonging to both residents were strewn carelessly over the floor, accompanied by a myriad of jagged china shards Joshua recognised as the bowl Hansol’s little sister had painted him for his birthday.

The posters had been ripped off the walls and torn to shreds. The photographs on the bedside table had been hurled across the room and their frames had been broken. As Joshua picked one up, he felt his insides curdle. What had once been a group photo of all the members together at the beach, frozen in their captured happiness, now resembled a mess of papery shreds as every face had been scratched out. All except for his.

He turned to show the vandalism to Seungcheol and faltered, wondering why he hadn’t noticed that when he’d first walked in.

While the covers had been torn away from Hansol’s mattress and his pillows had been slit open, the feathers adding to the carnage, Joshua’s bed remained untouched. It was perfectly neat and he realised with a sickening jolt that he hadn’t made it that morning but someone else clearly had.

Laid artfully over the pristine covers was a collection of rose petals, the cherry red contrasting vibrantly with the stark white. And above the bed’s headboard was one word spray painted carefully onto the wall. It made Joshua’s hair stand on end and a shiver of repulsion scuttle down his spine.

He turned his back and instead watched Seungcheol pushing Mingyu and Hansol out of the room, shouting down Hansol’s plea for an explanation and Mingyu’s apology that he had forgotten he’d heard someone trashing the place.

Joshua flinched way too violently when the police officer appeared beside him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder.

“I’ve called in a forensic team,” she said with a tight smile. At least things were being taken seriously now. All it had taken was a traumatised Seungkwan, a terrified Mingyu and Hansol’s possessions in ruins. “It would probably be a good idea to check if anything’s missing so that we can start a search for it.”

Joshua nodded numbly. It was too surreal. It was too movie-like. He wasn’t nearly well-known enough to warrant such an obsessive follower. He wasn’t even the most popular in the group, and yet here he was.

He felt his hands shaking as he sifted through the wreckage around him, unsure whether crying would be acceptable in this situation. It didn’t take him long to realise something wasn’t right as he swept the floor for his clothes. Fear, disgust and humiliation congregated in his gut as he rose to his feet and turned to the officer who was watching him with her notebook at the ready and an expectant look on her face.

“Some of my clothes are missing,” he said, trying to keep as low a tone as possible so as not to alert Seungcheol. The leader was pacing the room, uttering profanities under his breath.

“Can you tell what kind of clothes?” the officer asked him, too loudly in his opinion as she scribbled on her paper. Seungcheol looked up, lips parting in dread as he seemed to bore into Joshua’s mind and read his thoughts.

A dull flush crept up Joshua’s face and he cast his eyes down to the floor, rubbing the back of his neck in clear embarrassment.

“My gym shorts … My workout clothes and … my … underwear.” He finished with a whisper, his face burning with ridicule. He had never felt so violated and he lived his life in front of cameras. The words ‘idol’ and ‘private life’ did not belong in the same sentence but this was plaintively wrong.  

“That’s it, I'm taking you back to the States, as far away from this freak as possible.”

“Hyung …” Joshua started but Seungcheol raised a trembling finger to point at the wall.

“Read it, Shua. This is serious.”

Joshua didn’t need to read it again. He knew what it said. One word imprinted onto the paint he and Hansol had lathered on while listening to their debut songs and laughing at how high-pitched and childlike their voices had been. One word that instilled in him a terror the likes of which he had never experienced before.

One word.

_Mine._


	11. 제 10 장

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Recommendation:  
> "Man In Love" by Infinite

           “Okay, hyung. Talk.”

Joshua sat with his back against the studio mirror, hugging his knees and trying to make himself as small as possible so that he wouldn’t pull the others’ attention off Seungcheol. The leader was standing in front of them, surveying their curious forms splayed out over the floor. It looked a little like a teacher addressing their kindergarten class and Joshua was reminded of the skits they often performed at concerts.

He, Jeonghan and Seungcheol had agreed in the car on the way to the studio that the others needed to be told. There was no way they could be kept in the dark any longer, considering four of them had now been directly affected.

Seeing as he already knew all there was to say, Jeonghan had gone to a hotel room with Chan, who was still running a fever, and Seungkwan, who was yet to say a word since the break-in. With forensic officers crawling all over their dorm and a confirmed stalker on the loose, they’d deemed it safer to relocate. 

“Okay,” Seungcheol began, clapping his hands together and grinning sheepishly in a pathetic attempt to lighten the mood. He dropped the forced jovialness, however, when nobody even smirked.

“So …” he continued, catching Joshua’s eye before looking away hurriedly. “First of all, the situation is now under control so I don’t want any of you to worry.”

“Cut the crap, hyung.” Jihoon’s snarl had all heads whipping around to stare, disbelievingly, at him. “Someone broke into our house, threatened Mingyu and Seungkwan and it definitely has something to do with Shua-hyung. Someone wants to hurt him and you’ve finally decided to tell us who and why so just … cut the crap!”

He finished with an exhausted sigh, slamming his hands down on the wooden floor at his sides and slouching backwards against the wall in frustration. Seungcheol visibly deflated and Joshua felt like leaping up and sprinting from the room as he felt ten pairs of eyes boring into him.

“Okay,” Seungcheol said again but this time there was no forced cheer behind his voice. “Shua’s been getting some notes from …” What was she? She certainly wasn’t a fan. “A sasaeng.”

Sasaeng. That word was terrifying. That word meant poisoned water bottles and car crashes and razor blades in an envelope. That word meant an attempt on your life.

Seungcheol had to raise his voice over the rising cry from the members displaying their outrage that they had been concealed from such a threat to one of their own.

“The police are dealing with it! I’ve called Manager-hyung and we’re going to take a trip to the dorm we stayed at in Ilsan a few months back. I can’t tell you how long we’ll be there or what the outcome will be but I need you guys to understand that this is all for Shua’s safety.”

His imploring eyes roamed over them all and Joshua suppressed the urge to vomit. Being the cause of such a blatant impediment to their rehearsals and schedules was singularly the worst feeling he had ever experienced. He couldn’t raise his head in case he met someone’s eye and saw the irritation he had implanted there.

Indistinct murmurs rippled around the group, wearily agreeing to Seungcheol’s terms. A hand appeared on Joshua’s knee and he finally raised his head to see Hansol crouching in front of him. Before the younger boy could start to get the words out, Joshua was tripping over his tongue in his haste to start the conversation.

“Hansol, I’m so sorry about your stuff. I’ll pay for all the refurbishments and replace everything that can be replaced …”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Hansol choked out, incredulous eyebrows rising towards his hairline. “Hyung, it’s just stuff. I don’t care.”

“But the bowl your sister made …”

“Was awful.” They both chuckled, relishing the gloriousness of even a smidgen of joy in a time of darkness and fear. “Seriously, hyung, I’d take a few ripped posters and some broken china over an injured you any day. Nothing this bitch does is on you, okay?”

“If Jeonghan were here …” Joshua smirked.

“Yeah, I know, I said the word ‘bitch’. Shove soap in my mouth or whatever.” His smile faded as the seriousness took over once more. “You’re not alone, hyung. I need you to know that.”

Joshua placed his hand over the fingers curled around his knee and squeezed.

“I do.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some stuff comes up in the next chapter. There's a hint of non-con but it's not detailed or descriptive and it doesn't go very far at all. But just a warning to those who may be triggered or offended by that kind of thing.


	12. 제 11 장

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some triggering content in this chapter. I don't really want to call it non-con because I don't like it but unfortunately, that's what it is. But it is not graphic or descriptive and it doesn't go very far at all. If you are easily triggered or offended then either don't read this at all or stop reading at the 'XXXXX'. I will also put that at the end of the controversial part if you want to keep reading afterwards. You could probably just skip this chapter altogether. It's short and is really just additional horror to the plotline. It holds no grand significance. Please take care and don't endanger yourself.

              For an idol, the airport was a living Hell. There wasn’t an artist in the industry who didn’t long to be able to walk the polished floors and not be deafened by screams, assaulted by greedy hands and dazzled by flashing lights in their faces.

Joshua didn’t understand how people found out about their flight plans. They were never posted on any social media sight and the thought of anyone digging any deeper to gain an answer was a little unsettling.

The second they walked through the doors, they were swamped. Security guards formulated a moving wall, rebuffing all those who crossed the line between spectator and invader. But with the pulsating of the crowd, each fighting tooth and nail to get a picture or find contact, came the inability to walk in a straight line as fan collided with security and security collided with idol.

 

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

 

The next one hundred seconds were a blur of panic so intense that Joshua couldn’t remember which action followed which.

There was a high-pitched shriek that seemed to reverberate twice as loud as the wails of various members’ names that bounced off the airport walls. He turned his head as a body flew at him with such a speed that the security guards at his side had no time to process what was happening.

Arms encircled his neck, legs wrapped around his waist and a face loomed inches from his. The only thing he could see were the eyes. They were sparkling with a crazed fascination that he had seen in thousands of fans before. But at such close proximity, it was petrifying.

He lost his footing, crashing to the floor with a yelp as a shock rocketed up his elbow and his wrist throbbed dully. The arms did not relinquish their hold and he tried to crawl away from them but there was a weight on his back that made movement impossible. Hands roamed over his skin, uninvited fingers sliding underneath his shirt and terrifyingly close to the waistband of his jeans.

Every muscle in his body seemed to cramp into agonising knots of useless flesh. The noise of the airport around him was inside him, pounding at his organs and shaking his bones. The hands continued their wandering and he felt warm breath on the back of his neck and a mantra whispered in his ear.

_‘Mine … Mine … Mine … Mine’_

Joshua had never screamed like he did in that moment. He didn’t realise he was crying until he felt a wetness on his face as he kicked and thrashed and did everything in his limited power to throw the weight off his back.

The tears blurred his vision and all he could see were a jungle of feet and legs stampeding around him. He kept screaming, panicked mind begging someone to help him, to wake him from this nightmare where the hands kept moving further south. He pleaded – _‘I’m begging you, stop’ –_ sobbed – _‘please!’ –_ snarled – _‘get off me, you freak’ –_ but nothing retracted the fingers scrabbling at his skin. 

When rough hands dragged him along the ground until he found his footing, his first instinct was to fight but then he felt himself being shoved into an embrace so familiar and so warm and so comforting that he clung on for dear life.

“I’ve got you,” Wonwoo whispered as he used one arm to clamp Joshua to his chest and the other to create a barrier between his hyung and whoever came within spitting distance. Joshua let himself be half-carried, half-dragged into the VIP area where he sank against the first wall he could find and shrivelled into a ball.

 

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

 

He felt the warmth of two shoulders pressed on either side of him but he refused to lift his head even when he was gently manoeuvred to his feet and guided to an aeroplane seat.  

It was only when he felt a hand that wasn’t Wonwoo’s encase his own that he looked up. Seungkwan was sitting in the seat beside him, staring resolutely at his own feet while his fingers gently traced circles over his hyung’s skin.

“Seungkwannie …” Joshua croaked, searching for the proper apology for how traumatised the break-in had left the kid and how the horrendous airport experience couldn’t have helped with what seemed to be developing into PTSD.

“Whatever keeps you safe,” was the hoarse reply and Joshua wondered if that was the first time Seungkwan had spoken since the other night.

For the entirety of the flight, neither of them said a word.

For the entirety of the flight, Seungkwan didn’t let go of Joshua’s hand.

When they finally landed, they were ushered through a back entrance, away from prying eyes and flashing cameras and groping hands, with Joshua fenced off from further harm by the members that surrounded him on all sides. 


	13. 제 12 장

          “Hyung?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think it’s over now?”

Joshua’s footsteps faltered on the pavement so abruptly that Minghao shuffled forwards a few paces before he stopped too. The shopping bag swung like a plastic pendulum at his side and a strange croaking sound came from his mouth as he tried to backtrack on what he’d just said.

“I’m sorry, hyung … I didn’t mean to … I know you don’t …”

Joshua stretched out his arm, hooking it around Minghao’s shoulders and they continued their pleasurable amble through the streets, path illuminated by the dim glow of streetlamps alone.

“I don’t know, Minghao-ah” he admitted finally, trying to keep his voice light despite how terrifying the truth was. “I hope so.”

They had been in Ilsan for almost ten days and there hadn’t been a single letter. His phone hadn’t announced an unknown number. Not an article in the country mentioned his name. There had been uproar from the fan community once the news of his airport assault had gotten out but that had died away almost instantly once the public found something new to goggle at.

He never thought he’d be so grateful to be able to walk to the shops and buy a few groceries without constantly glancing over his shoulder and waiting for the whisper in his ear. _‘Mine.’_

He tried not to think about the conversation Jeonghan and Seungcheol had held in hushed tones in the living room when they didn’t realise Joshua had sneaked down for a glass of water.

 

 

_“Hyung, you can’t have that in the house. What if one of the kids finds it?”_

_“Jeonghan-ah, I know they’re your babies but they’re not literally babies. They’re not going to pick it up and wave it about. Besides, it’s staying hidden. I’m only telling you in case something happens and you’re closer to it than I am.”_

_“I’m calling the private security guy back and telling him we want to take them up on their offer. Now get that thing away from me.”_

_“Jeonghan-ah, I don’t like it any more than you do but think about it. With armed security crawling around the place, how easy would it be for someone to impersonate one of them? And I don’t want the others to feel like prisoners, followed and scrutinised every second of every day. And I promised Seungkwan and Mingyu that nothing would ever happen to them as long as they were under the same roof as me. This way, I can protect them without having to background check every single person I let in our vicinity.”_

_“As much as I loathe to admit it, that police officer was right when she said there was no indication there would be an attempt on Shua’s life.”_

_“After what happened at the airport, I think this freak has something else in mind.”_

_“Hyung, don’t even …”_

_“I don’t want to think about it either but we have to be realistic, Jeonghan-ah. These people can watch our entire lives. They see us sleeping, eating, crying, talking about our fears and feelings. They practically have an all-access pass to our deepest vulnerabilities and we were warned when we chose this career that there might be those who would take it too far. And let’s be real, have you ever seen Shua’s face?”_

_“Please stop. He’s not an object.”_

_“Don’t you think I know that? I’m not trying to do anything other than protect him but I need you to trust me. If the others think we’re not 100% in control here, they’ll get scared.”_

_“They’re already scared. Seungkwan still has nightmares.”_

_“Do you trust me, Jeonghan?”_

_“Of course I fucking trust you. Just promise me you won’t touch that thing unless you absolutely have to.”_

_“I promise.”_

_“Shit, hyung … What happened to us? We’re fucking singers. We sing. We don’t have our houses broken into and our clothes stolen and our bodies molested at airports. We aren’t belongings to be grappled over or fucking prizes to be won. We’re people. We deserve lives too.”_

_“Are you okay? I’ve never heard you swear like that.”_

_“I just … Whatever keeps him safe, right?”_

_“Whatever keeps him safe.”_

“I hope so,” Joshua repeated and the two of them settled into comfortable silence as they meandered homewards to where Mingyu was undoubtedly cooking up a storm and Seungcheol was probably yelling at Jun for disappointing Jesus … again.

They turned into the driveway, leaving the comfort of the streetlamps behind them and striding headlong into the darkness provided by the interlocking trees that curtained them off from the outside world. The porch light was on, a weakly warm beacon beckoning them towards the safety of four walls, central heating and, most importantly, food.

“Hyung …” Minghao suddenly whispered, breaking the silence they had lapsed into. “There’s someone following us.”

Immediately, Joshua felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickling as a shiver wriggled down his spine and goosebumps rose up on his arms. He didn’t turn around but he could feel it: the undeniable presence of somebody a few steps behind them.

There was no reason for somebody to be there. The only people who knew where they were hiding was the inner circle of their management. There were no other houses, no other people staying with them.

Unable to stand it any longer, Joshua turned his head and felt a spasm of terror ricocheting through his body like he’d been electrocuted.  

It was just a person. But it was a person cast in shadow, faceless and huge in the way they were silhouetted in the darkness. Head down, shoulders hunched, hands pocketed and feet planted firmly on the ground, it was a figure that gave off an aura. A distinctive feeling that something very, very bad was about to happen.

As he reached out and fisted his hand in Minghao’s shirt, Joshua remembered Mingyu’s recollection of the break-in. How the intruder had been female. But as he was looking at this newcomer – the broad shoulders, the muscular thighs, the daunting height – he realised this was no girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SIDENOTE:   
> Congratulations to NCT on their first live broadcast win and also happy birthday to Nakamoto Yuta! Have a great day!


	14. 제 13 장

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got some really nice comments on the last chapter and it made me feel generous so I'm updating a few hours early. 
> 
> ALSO TRIGGER WARNING FOR VIOLENCE

“Excuse me? Can we help you?” Minghao’s voice echoed through the silence like a whip crack, causing a bird to take off from a nearby tree with an indignant squawk.

The figure didn’t answer. It simply took a step forwards, and then another step, heavy boots splashing in the mud the rain had brought just a few hours ago. The head stayed bowed, face concealed from view and adding to the fear that was now deep set in Joshua’s bones.

“Minghao …” he choked.

Minghao didn’t respond.

The figure kept approaching.

Neither of them were moving.

“Minghao …” He was louder that time, voice quavering pathetically. “Get inside …”

Minghao didn’t respond.

“Minghao, move!” he screamed, planting a hand between Minghao’s shoulder blades and shoving him towards the house.

The push was too strong and Minghao stumbled but his hyung’s vice-like grip on his arm kept him on his feet as they started to run. Adrenaline and terror alone kept their muscles moving and Joshua could hear the sound of his own hyperventilating over the squelching his feet made on the ground.

He didn’t need to turn around to know the figure was following, powerful legs gaining ground, fuelled by the determination to do whatever it is this man wanted to do to them.

They leapt onto the porch, the keys slipping from Minghao’s trembling fingers and jangling to the ground. He stooped to retrieve them, dropping them twice more in his panic and then struggling desperately to find the right one. When they escaped from his quivering gasp for a fourth time, he abandoned them completely and began pounding on the front door, screaming in pure, undiluted terror for someone to open up and save them.

Joshua whipped around. The figure was less than ten feet away – now walking calmly as though tormenting them - and closing in, gloved hands balled into fists. His face would have been visible now if it weren’t for the mask that concealed him from his eyes downwards.

But his eyes. The closer he got, the more crazed they appeared. There was a spark within them. No hesitance, no second guessing. Those eyes knew what they wanted and they weren’t going to stop until they got it.

Joshua pressed his back against Minghao, trying to shield him with his body. His flimsy body that the man in front of him could snap in half with one quick gesture.

“Please! He’s just a kid! He hasn’t done anything wrong! He’s just a kid, please!” he screamed over Minghao’s desperate cries to the oblivious inhabitants inside the house.

The first punch sunk itself into the left side of his abdomen. He felt the knuckles digging upwards, underneath his ribs and he gasped for breath, reaching out for the body in front of him and trying to push it away.

The second punch landed in the centre of his stomach and he doubled over, wheezing, before a hand fisted in his hair and pulled his head back up.

The third punch elicited the first cry of pain.

The fourth snatched his ability to breathe right out from under him.

The fifth had him choking on a coppery substance.

The blows were lightning fast, the attacker’s arm blurred in Joshua’s clouded vision from his watering eyes. He had no time to think clearly or try to escape. He only stood, his knees weakening under his weight, and took the beating.  

He tried swinging his own fists but his aim was off and his blows were sluggish with the exhaustion that was overcoming his body and yet he remained on his feet. As long as he was standing, he was the only barrier between this monster and Minghao.

There was the distinct sound of metal grating against metal and Joshua felt the warm sensation of light spreading over his back before a hand seized his shirt and he was wrenched across the threshold.

Soonyoung slammed the door, refastening every lock and bolt before screaming something to the black figure on the porch outside about having called the police.

Joshua scrambled to his feet and stumbled to the window, cupping his hands over his eyes so that he could see the monster retreating back into the shadows from where it came. And only then did he let himself breathe.

He was drenched in sweat, his sodden T-Shirt clinging to his skin and individual droplets gliding repulsively down his abdomen.

“He’s gone …” he gasped, more to reassure himself than anyone else. “Minghao-ah …”

Minghao was gripping the wall like it would disappear without him, his chest heaving and his eyes bulging. Joshua started towards him, reaching out a comforting hand but Minghao flinched back, pressing into the wall as though he hoped it would absorb him.

Joshua faltered, withdrawing his hand in confusion. Minghao had never looked at him like he was looking at him now. With so much terror. Only then did he see the scarlet smears on his dongsaeng’s shirt.

“Minghao-ah, you’re hurt …” he stepped forwards again but felt hands tighten on his shoulders and blinked to see Jeonghan’s face right in front of his. He didn’t know how he’d got there.

“Shua, you need to sit down.”

“Hyung, let go of me! Minghao-ah, where are you hurt?”

“Shua, please, just sit down.”

Joshua tried to shove past Jeonghan but the elder’s grip was iron tight and his eyes were pleading and panicked and petrified. He didn’t understand. Why wasn’t Jeonghan letting him help Minghao? Why wasn’t anybody helping Minghao?

“Mingha …” Why were his words slurring? Why was his head spinning? Why was he sweating so much?

“Joshua!” Jeonghan yelled, and his voice cracked on the second syllable. There were tears on his face. But Joshua didn’t understand why. “Sit down!”

Joshua brought his hands up to give his hyung another push and that was when he saw it.

It crusted in his nails, smudged over his fingers, trickled down his wrists and arched up his arms, tarnishing his skin with its poison.

He looked down and he finally understood.

His shirt was no longer white, the discoloured patches darkening with every passing moment. It stuck to his body with disgusting determination as it soaked up the scarlet like a sponge.

He wasn’t sweating. It wasn’t Minghao’s. It was his. His blood. Him.  

Bleeding like he hadn’t bled since he’d run his bike into a tree without a helmet on when he was a kid, flipping acrobatically over the handle bars and slicing the back of his head clean open on the bark’s sharp teeth. The scarlet stains had remained there for years.

But something about this was different. He felt no pain. Not even an ache. He pulled up his shirt, almost curious as to what he would find beneath the sodden fabric.

He heard Minghao’s strangled cry from where he was still pinned against the wall.

There were five beautifully neat incisions in Joshua’s skin. He would have admired their uniformity if it weren’t for the sickening, fascinating way each one seemed to spout a faucet of thick, gloopy red that joined the cascade onto the waistband of his jeans.

Yeah. This was definitely different.  

“Oh …” was all he said before he lost the ability to stand.


	15. 제 14 장

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got attacked with love.  
> I never get attacked with love.   
> This is my thank you.

                It wasn’t dramatic or graceful or artfully choreographed like it was in the movies. Joshua just sagged into Jeonghan’s arms, his sudden dead weight bringing them both down to the floor with a clumsy thump.

Jeonghan shuffled so that Joshua’s head rested on his thigh and he felt rather than saw Seungcheol dropping to his knees beside him. Soonyoung was just background noise, shouting orders at whoever was asking the questions, voices shrill with fright.

“I don’t know what I’m doing …” Seungcheol stuttered, hands hovering uselessly over Joshua’s body and tears mingling with the blood they were all caked in.

Jeonghan looked up through his blurred vision and saw Minghao curled up in the corner of the hallway, eyes screwed tightly shut and hands clamped over his ears as he gently rocked backwards and forwards. Even in the cacophony of chaos that surrounded them, Jeonghan could hear the feeble hum coming from the kid’s thinly pressed lips as he tried to sing the torment away.

Jeonghan's head whipped from left to right, forwards to backwards, as though somehow he could find some miracle that would have them all waking up from this dream. This nightmare where he cradled a boy with half a dozen stab wounds in his gut.

He couldn’t comprehend. He couldn’t function. He was the hyung and yet he had absolutely no idea what to do. His and Seungcheol’s plan had been: “If something happens, use the gun.” But something had happened and a gun was no use to them now.

He felt fingers scrabbling at his shirt and looked down to see blood-soaked hands trying to fasten their grip on the already scarlet material. Joshua’s eyes were wide and his expression was blank, a trickle of red starting a steady stream from the corner of his mouth.

“’M sorry …” He sounded as though he were speaking through a mouthful of cotton wool, thick and heavy. Jeonghan’s breaths were coming at such a rapid frequency that his head started to feel dizzy.

“Why are you sorry, Shua?” he asked, raking his sticky fingers through Joshua’s hair in an attempt to provide comfort in a situation where comfort was not a component.

“Didn’ wear … a helmet …” came the mumbled reply. Joshua was staring at up at his hyung but he wasn’t seeing him. His eyes were unfocused and glassy and _gone._ “Mama said … should always wear … a helmet …”

“Hyung, please do something!” Jeonghan sobbed, turning his pleading eyes on Seungcheol. Joshua wasn’t making sense. It was terrifying.

“I don’t know what to do!” Seungcheol shouted. His hands were pressed into Joshua’s abdomen but the blood was spilling over his fingers and adding to the steadily increasing stain on the hallway carpet.

They weren’t in control anymore. Neither of them. Their common sense had deserted them the moment they had heard Minghao’s screams from the porch. Their authority had flown the coop as soon as Soonyoung had wrenched open that door and dragged a flailing Joshua inside.

They were useless. Promises of protection had been broken and vows of leadership had been ripped to shreds. They didn’t have control. So someone else took it.

“Soonyoung, ambulance now!”

“Got it!”

“Jun? Jun! Get Minghao to the bathroom!”

“Come on, Minghao. Hyung’s got you.”

“Seungcheol, move! Jeonghan? Jeonghan? Jeonghan, snap out of it!”

The words were distant and the actions were blurred but then Jihoon was there, throwing Seungcheol aside with strength Jeonghan didn’t realise he possessed. He pinned the towel to Joshua’s stomach and pressed his knee onto the woolly fabric, apologising under his breath at the moan of discomfort from the patient at the added pressure. But Jihoon’s eyes were locked with Jeonghan’s, a fierceness dominating within him.

“Come back to me, Jeonghan!”

“I’m here …” Jeonghan mumbled, giving himself a mental slap.

“Keep him talking,” Jihoon ordered before he was yelling symptoms for Soonyoung to relay to the emergency operator on the other end of the phone.

“Joshua?” Jeonghan whispered, running his hand gently down the side of Joshua’s face in an attempt to draw the younger’s attention towards him. It had no effect. Joshua’s gaze remained unfocused and lifeless. “Joshuaji?”

“Should al … ways wear … a helmet …” Joshua wheezed. “Tha’s wha’ … Mama … said …”

“What else did she say?” Jeonghan asked, stroking Joshua’s hair like he knew his dongsaeng’s mother used to do. His mother who was back in America. His mother who he might never speak to again.

“Tha’ ‘m … not allowed … chocolate before … dinner …”

“Yeah?” Jeonghan didn’t know why he was speaking to Joshua like a child but it was the only thing his traumatised mind could think to do when the real Joshua clearly wasn’t there anymore. “Well, do you know what, Joshuaji? If you keep your eyes open, hyung will buy you all the chocolate he can afford.”

The ghost of a smile played over Joshua’s lips.

“Hyung sounds nice …” he whispered. “I shoul’ meet him … some … day.”

Jeonghan very nearly screamed.

“He wants to meet you, too. So stay awake and I’ll introduce you.”

He looked up desperately to see Jihoon’s lips forming the shape of silent profanities as the blood continued to lap over his fingers with merciless continuity.

There was an indistinct cry of relief from somewhere to Jeonghan’s right and the bitter wind was soon nipping at his bare feet as Soonyoung dashed out onto the porch. The opposite wall was alight with blue shadows, dancing and dipping like a disco ball underwater.

“They’re here now, Sh … Shua? Joshua? Open your eyes, Joshua! Open your eyes for hyung! Joshua, open your goddamn eyes!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have seen someone in shock and this is the kind of thing that happens so I just ran with it.
> 
> Also: Please pray for Pittsburgh


	16. 제 15 장

          “Jeonghan …”

_I don’t care._

“Jeonghan …”

_Leave me alone._

“Jeonghan!”

“What?”

“You’re going to pull his hair out.”

Jeonghan looked down to see that he was indeed running his fingers through Joshua’s hair with increasing ferocity, tugging at the greasy strands until they pulled at his scalp. He hadn’t even noticed. He’d been too caught up in his own thoughts.

“Sorry, Joshuaji,” he muttered, smoothing the abused nest back into a tidy mop. He heard the all-too familiar sigh and glanced across the bed to see Seungcheol still sitting with his arms folded, staring at him.

“You’ve got to stop this.”

“Stop what?”

“Blaming yourself.”

Jeonghan didn’t even bother to suppress his hiss of frustration.

“I’m not listening to this again.”

He was tired. To be frank, he was exhausted. He hadn’t slept unless it was folded up in a hospital chair, neck craning at an awkward angle that left him almost immobilised when he woke barely an hour later. He hadn’t touched the food Seungcheol had tried to force down his throat. He had shouted down the order to shower and hadn’t left Joshua’s side other than to use the bathroom.

How could he leave when it was like this? The orderlies had wheeled the bed in at around three in the morning, stone-faced and emotionless. They didn’t care who they were carting around. All they cared about was the cheque with their name on it.

The doctor had glided in at 5am, aged face creased in a frown and oversized nose balancing thick-framed glasses. His white coat caught in the wind he made as he walked, gracefully flowing out behind him like a cape. Like a superhero. At least, that was what Jeonghan prayed he was.

When you were desperate for information to the point of almost storming into reception and screaming at the top of your lungs until someone paid attention to you, you noticed these little things. Like the way Joshua’s chest only rose every few seconds, much slower than it should. And the way Seungcheol seemed to be trying to scratch through the skin of his hand until he got to the bone.

Now it was half past eight on the second day and Joshua hadn’t moved a muscle. No twitch of a finger or flicker of an eyelid or a faint murmur for his mother, something he always did when he was dreaming of home. If it weren’t for the steady beat of the heart monitor, it would have taken considerable explanation to assure Jeonghan he wasn’t already dead.  

“I’m worried about you, Jeonghan-ah. You don’t look well.”

Jeonghan scoffed, eyebrows shooting upwards with incredulity.

“You’re telling me _I_ don’t look well? Are you serious?”

He gestured towards Joshua, a paper figurine lying motionless against white sheets with a bag of blood hanging beside him, feeding his malnourished veins.

“And you’re hostile,” Seungcheol continued, unfazed by Jeonghan’s uncharacteristic insubordination. “You need food and you need sleep and you’re getting neither while you sit here waiting for something that might never …”

“Shut up,” Jeonghan spat.

He didn’t care that Seungcheol was the hyung. He didn’t care that his mother would be having a fit if she saw the way he treated an elder. He didn’t care that what Seungcheol was saying had a very high possibility of being true. He only cared that as long as he refused to believe it, it wouldn’t happen.

“Jeonghan-ah, you’re not the only one hurting here.”

That was what it took to get Jeonghan to finally make eye contact, his eyelashes threaded with unshed tears.

There was a moment where they simply stared at each other, neither ready to look away and break the only bond of comfort they had shared since they’d been abandoned in a hospital corridor, watching the doctors taking Joshua away.

“I was the one who said he and Minghao could go,” Jeonghan finally whispered, letting the droplets paint transparent streaks down his pale cheeks. “It’s my fault.”

Seungcheol leaned forwards in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees and running his hands through his uncombed hair. He had obeyed Jihoon’s instructions to shower and choke down half a sandwich but he still hadn’t let anyone else into the room.  He didn’t want them to see what he was seeing: his grand fuck up.

“And I was the one who refused the security escort. I was the one who locked the door so securely that Soonyoung couldn’t open it in time. I was the one who promised I’d keep him safe.” He took a deep breath and stared Jeonghan right in the eye. “In addition to it being the world’s biggest cliché, blaming yourself is not going to change anything. If Shua wakes up …”

“When.”

“When Shua wakes up, he’s going to need you to be his favourite hyung, because let’s face it, you are. And the others are going to need you to be the touch that calms them and the hugs that soothe their nightmares and the voice that reassures them because they’re not going to trust me anymore. I know it’s easier to fall apart and the minute you feel like you’re going to break, all you have to do is reach out and I will be there to catch you. But for the others, you have to be the strong one.”

They both lowered their gazes, drowning in their shame but pleased to have somebody else to flounder with them. Maybe they could teach each other to swim back to the shore.

“So corny.”

Two heads snapped up. Two hands reached out to encase the fingers resting against the sheets. Two pairs of eyes widened in shock and then brimmed with happiness.

“Hey, Shua.”

“Hey,” Joshua croaked, cracking his eyes open to give them a glimpse of the bloodshot whites and dilated pupils. He gave each hand a weak but gratefully received squeeze, running his tongue over his chapped lips to bring them their much-needed moisture. “At least tell me there’s a cake at this pity party.”

“And you’re the guest of honour,” Jeonghan grinned at him, fiddling with the oxygen cannula threaded under his nose. “Don’t!” he added as a lone tear slid down the side of Joshua’s face to settle in his hair. The faint smile he received in return could have cured cancer.

“It’s my pity party and I’ll cry if I want to.”

His head lolled towards Seungcheol, watery eyes blinking sluggishly.

“Minghao?”

“Fine,” Seungcheol confirmed. “Being spoilt by Mingyu’s cooking and Jun’s cuddles.” He stroked his thumb over Joshua’s hand, wincing at how dry the skin felt and softening in sympathy at just how pale the patient was. “Go back to sleep, Shua. We’ve got you.”

Joshua gave a hum of appreciation and closed his eyes again, shifting slightly on his pillow to give him a more comfortable resting place. Just as his breathing began to even out again, his lips parted.

“Hyung?”

He could have been talking to either of them but it was Jeonghan’s hand he tightened his grip on.

“Yeah?”

“Can I get a raincheck on that chocolate?”

“Sure thing, Shua.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kind words. It made my day.


	17. 제 16 장

         Jeonghan awoke to a hand slapping against his back and he jolted upright from where he’d sat slumped over Joshua’s bed with his head resting on his arms.

“This is an intervention.”

He groaned, running his fingers through his greasy hair before giving Seokmin his best glower. Seokmin, however, wasn’t having any of it.

“No, hyung. You haven’t eaten in forty-eight hours, you look like death warmed up and you smell like the racoon that died in my parents’ basement.”

From where he lay comfortably on his side, his fingers still curled around Jeonghan’s hand like they had been all night, Joshua smirked sleepily. “He’s right, hyung. Go home. I’ve got Soonyoung-ah to ask me how I’m doing every thirty seconds.”

Jeonghan glanced sceptically at Soonyoung who sat on the other side of the bed, cup of coffee in hand and book on his lap.

“Every thirty seconds,” he demanded and Soonyoung rolled his eyes.

“Fine. Every thirty seconds.”

Jeonghan gave Joshua’s hand a final squeeze and promised to be back that evening before he begrudgingly allowed Seokmin to take him by the arm and drag him from the hospital room. There was a cry of _‘you smell worse than the racoon!’,_ the sound of a hand smacking flesh and Seokmin’s yelp of pain before the door swung shut.

“You’re not actually going to ask me every thirty seconds, right?” Joshua asked, rolling onto his other side so he could face Soonyoung, wincing slightly at the pressure he put on his stitches.

“You bet your ass I am. There’s no way I’m going against the mother of all mother hens.” He interlocked his fingers in his lap and leaned forwards with a dead serious expression on his face. “So how do you feel?”

Joshua threw a pillow at him, a decision he then regretted as it meant he couldn’t get it back until he’d apologised.

The glorious atmosphere that had been so scarce these past days was rudely interrupted by the arrival of a man in a black suit that bulged ominously around his enlarged biceps and looked far too close to ripping at the shoulders. He flashed them a taught smile and then pulled a police ID from his belt.

“Joshua Hong?”

Joshua nodded, the side of his face rubbing against the softness of the pillow.

“I need to speak to you regarding the incident that took place two nights ago.”

“Can’t it wait?” Soonyoung prompted, his tone hard and cold and contrasting greatly to his usually comical drawl. “He’s barely got enough energy to eat let alone relive the most terrifying experience of his life.”

“Hey,” Joshua interjected, reaching out and snagging his hand on Soonyoung’s sweater sleeve. “It’s okay. If we don’t do this now, Jeonghan will come back and make everything impossible with his hovering.”

When Soonyoung still looked unsure, Joshua added. “Go grab another coffee and get me a flapjack, would you? I’m sick of hospital gloop. Please, Soonyoung-ah?”

Soonyoung let out a very disapproving sigh, glaring at the intruder with as much hatred as he could muster.

“I’ll be gone for ten minutes and when I get back, you’re done,” he said, not bothering to add honorifics or even speak with a hint of respect. He was sick of the cops and their uselessness. They had neglected to do anything when Seungcheol had begged them to and they had nearly lost Joshua as a result.

“Yes, sir.” The officer bowed as Soonyoung stalked out, building up his pace so he could cross the distance from Joshua’s room to the canteen in half the time.

 

 

       As he made his way back, newly warmed coffee heating his palm and flapjack flopping about in the bag in his hand, he wondered if he’d just opened the door a little faster, would things have been different.

Would Joshua not have lost consciousness as he slowly bled out on the floor of their hallway?

Would his heart not have stopped in the ambulance, causing his body to be pounded with electricity until it started pumping again?

Would the doctors not have had to replace half his blood volume as they cut into his already-mutilated body on the operating table?

Would he not be facing an expected recovery period of three months, dashing their chances of a comeback and rendering him vulnerable to the lunatic who could return at any time?

Knowing there was a faceless freak out on the loose who was more than willing to take a knife to his hyung made Soonyoung sick to his stomach. The members back at yet another hotel were baffled as to why the intruder in their dorm and the offender at the airport had clearly been female but there was no doubting that the stabber was a man. He wondered if they had been collaborating with each other, plotting to snatch Joshua on his way home from the studio or strangle him as he slept in his bed.

He found himself speeding up again, his terrifying thoughts deepening his desire to see his hyung, just to reassure himself that he was safe.

As he rounded the final corner and the hospital room door came into sight, he saw the female police officer reaching for the door handle. A flicker of distaste crossed his expression. He really didn’t like this woman and her incompetence.

“There’s already an officer in there,” he called out as he approached her, his edgy voice making her jump. “I’m about to kick him out.”

A frown creased her face, brow furrowing in confusion.

“There wasn’t another officer assigned to this case,” she said slowly as though expecting him to tell her he’d been joking.

“Yeah, there was,” Soonyoung replied with an assertive nod despite the uneasiness growing inside him at the sight of her bewilderment. “The guy with the suit and the badge came in and said he needed to talk to Shua about … Oh, shit.”

He dived for the door, ramming it with his shoulder to ensure it crashed open at an appropriate speed. There was no way he was going to let another slab of wood get in the way of him protecting his hyung.

The sight that befell him almost brought him to his knees.

The bed was empty, the blankets tangled in a heap on the floor. The IV that had been embedded in Joshua’s hand, supplying him with much-needed fluids, was lying ownerless on the mattress. Beside it was a speckling of blood.

“No …”

They were gone. Both of them.

“NO!”


	18. 제 17 장

           Jihoon kept a firm grip of Seungcheol’s sleeve as he pulled him roughly up the stairs, ignoring the fact that his leader was both superior in biological status and physical strength. He reached the door at the very top and shouldered it open, tugging Seungcheol out into the frigid cold.

They stood on the hospital roof, the parking lot laid out in miniature form seven storeys below them. The sun was concealed behind a thick barricade of fluffy grey, denying them the privelige of both light and warmth. 

Seungcheol just stood there, trembling in his thin sweater, while Jihoon turned slowly to face him. He didn’t know why he had been dragged onto a roof when Joshua was downstairs, finally awake and talking, and he desperately wanted his contact. But Jihoon had gripped his arm the second he’d stepped away from the bed, and hadn’t given him any other option than to blindly follow.

“There’s no one watching,” Jihoon said, and as if to prove a point, he turned his back and stared out over the little fleshy matchsticks hustling and bustling about their daily lives far, far down below. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

It was exactly what Seungcheol hadn’t realised he so desperately needed to hear.

He didn’t have to be strong when there was no one to expect him to carry the burden. He didn’t have to paint on a smile when he couldn’t find the right colours in his palette. He didn’t have to blow out a laugh when he had no breath left in him. In this moment, he didn’t have to be the leader.

So he broke.

He staggered sideways, barely making it two feet to the left before he threw up everything he had consumed in the past twenty-four hours. Judging by the fact that the puddle of foul-smelling soup that splattered the concrete was mainly liquid, he hadn’t consumed nearly enough.

Once he had spat out every last mouthful, he finally permitted himself to physically crumble. His knees gave out and he sank to the ground, lying flat on his back and staring up at the murky sky. He was glad it was cloudy. The sun didn’t deserve to shine when the world was so fucked up.

His hands shook as he raised them in front of his face. The tint of dried blood was still crusted in the corners of his finger nails despite the fact that he’d spent nearly forty-five minutes scrubbing them until his skin bled. He closed his eyes but the image of Joshua’s body cradled in Jeonghan’s arms was imprinted onto the backs of his lids, granting him no escape from such a torment.

He didn’t try to suppress the tears or the sound that came with them. He let the choked sobs ring loud and clear, whole body shaking with the effort of releasing the pent-up agony that had been clawing at his chest. There was no one to judge him, no one to be ashamed of him, no one looking at him with expectant eyes and soft pleas to make everything okay again.

There was only Jihoon.

“You can scream if you want.” He still hadn’t turned around, giving Seungcheol all the privacy he needed without permitting him solitude. “No one can hear you.”

Seungcheol screamed. And God, it felt good. He beat his fists against the ground at his sides and slammed his heels into the concrete, relishing in the pain it gave him. It was his penance for failing to keep his promise.

For failing not only to protect Joshua from the demon who had tried to take his life, but for failing to protect Jeonghan who would be plagued with the same images his leader was tormented with now.

For failing to protect Minghao who would wake up sobbing, the memories of sprinting up the driveway in the dark fresh in his post-sleep mind.

For failing to protect Chan who had been left open and vulnerable and helpless.

For failing to protect Seungkwan whose trauma had returned full-fledge the second Joshua had collapsed on the carpet.

For failing to protect Mingyu who wouldn’t stop staring out of the windows for fear he would see somebody creeping up the path, and who now slept with a baseball bat beside his bed.

He screamed his apology to the sky. He screamed until he thought his throat would tear. He screamed until he felt a gentle hand on his chest, right over his thumping heart.

“That’s enough,” Jihoon said and Seungcheol fell silent at once. The last tear trickled down the side of his face and he gouged the moisture from his eyes before accepting Jihoon’s hand and clambering to his feet.

The relief he felt was indescribable. Like he had been on the verge of drowning and suddenly he had been wrenched from the waters and was finally able to breathe.  

“Now you have to be the leader again.”

Seungcheol nodded and started back towards the staircase with a newfound strength in his footsteps. He felt renewed and revived and ready to be the foundations for their recovery.

But just before they could reach the door, the distinctive sound of heavy boots against metal stairs echoed from the other side. Jihoon seized his arm and pulled him behind one of the bins, crouching low and pressing a finger to his lips. Seungcheol understood. They weren’t supposed to be up there.

They listened, unable to see, as the door burst open.

“Move!” came the guttural snarl, followed by a strangled cry of pain.

Completely bewildered, Seungcheol peered cautiously out from behind the bin and felt his blood turn to ice.

A man was marching away from them, tossing aside a black suit jacket in his venture towards the edge of the rooftop. He had an arm around someone else’s chest, dragging the protesting figure with him so that their bare feet scraped painfully on the unforgiving concrete.

Something small and gold skittered over the ground and Seungcheol found his gaze drawn to it instinctively. It was a police badge but there was something off about it. It was too polished and the noise it made as it hit the floor was far too similar to how plastic would sound. It was too thin. Too fake.  

Seungcheol felt all the air leave his lungs as the captive’s knees brought them crashing to the ground only for his attacker to pull him back to his feet by his hair. He didn’t need to see the face to recognise the voice that cried a desperate – and painfully weak – _‘please’._

“Shua …”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SIDENOTE: I'm working on a new story and I've cried so many times while writing it. I am evil.


	19. 제 18 장

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING   
> TRIGGER WARNING  
> TRIGGER WARNING  
> BRIEF MENTIONS OF SUICIDE

          Seungcheol had no idea what he was doing. He had no idea what he was going to do. And when he was asked that evening, he would say he had no idea what he had done.

Shoving Jihoon towards the stairs with a desperate hiss of, “get help”, he raised his hands to shoulder height in a signature of surrender and emerged from behind the bin.

“Please don’t.”

The man whipped around, boots scuffling the concrete where they stood dangerously close to the edge. He was broad, heavily built and, from the way Joshua was gasping in his grip, incredibly strong. But it was his eyes that were the most intimidating. They were dangerous, lit up by some spark of insanity that left Seungcheol terrified that there would be no reasoning with a mind that was clearly not thinking rationally.

“Don’t move!” he growled at Seungcheol, taking another step towards instant oblivion and dragging his prize with him.

“Hyung …” Joshua whimpered. His face was paper white and stretched taught in an expression of pure petrification. The dark red stain that was steadily spreading over the T-Shirt covering his abdomen told Seungcheol that the stitches had ripped.

The man tightened his grip around Joshua’s chest, eliciting a choked sob of agony as fingers dug into the wounds that were still fresh and raw and now at terrible risk of infection.

“Okay, I’m not moving,” Seungcheol said, shaping each syllable slowly so that his words were crystal clear and keeping his hands raised.

His mind was moving at a speed he didn’t think were possible. There was no doubt what this man wanted to do. The only doubt was whether or not there was anything that could stop him.

Seungcheol had sat with Wonwoo through his cliché police dramas where unrealistically attractive people, who somehow managed to make Kevlar look sexy, talked their way calmly and expertly through a hostage situation with a glowing outcome and a standing ovation to round it all off. But something about the striking reality of this situation told Seungcheol that a conclusion like that was very unlikely.

“What’s your name?” he asked, panicked brain telling him that the only way to save Joshua was to stall until someone with actual credentials could come and take over.

“I said stay there!” came the bellowed reply, spittle firing from purple frankfurter lips.

“I’m not moving,” Seungcheol repeated.

He met Joshua’s eye and tried to tell him without words that help was on the way and that everything was going to be fine. But he had said that once before and now here he was standing on a rooftop trying to delay a psychopath from throwing his dongsaeng off a building.

“What’s the problem?” If the situation hadn’t been so dire, he would have laughed at his own pathetic wording choice. Problem? _Problem?_ What wasn’t the problem would be the more pressing question. “Do you need something?”

“I need him to be dead.” He was deranged, his body pressed right up against Joshua’s back. “He belongs to her so she’ll get him! He’s hers!”

“No.” Seungcheol shook his head violently, his voice splintering in his throat and escaping his mouth in broken fragments. He had no idea what was going on but he remembered the message scrawled across the bedroom wall in flaky paint that blurred at the edges like a mirage. He wished it had been a mirage. “He’s not hers. He’s …” He scrambled for words, something that would give him control in this situation. “He’s mine. My friend, my brother, my responsibility. Mine!”

Tears were streaming down Joshua’s face as he clung to the arm that was wrapped around his chest for the sole purpose of keeping himself upright.

“What did he do?” Seungcheol continued, trying to keep his voice as calm and neutral as possible when all he wanted to do was sprint forwards, plant his fist in this guy’s face, sweep Joshua up and race him down to a doctor.

“He killed my sister!”

He felt as if he’d been punched. This had to be a mistake. This had to be a joke. That was it. This was a really, really sick and twisted hidden camera prank.

“No!” Joshua cried out, writhing against his restraint with a newfound strength at the false accusation. “I didn’t! I didn’t kill anyone!”

That was the worst thing anyone could have said.

Something in that man snapped and it was all Seungcheol could do to stay where he was. His instincts told him that one wrong move on his part could literally send this situation over the edge.

The man twisted Joshua around so that they were face to face and tightened a hammy hand around his victim’s throat. Joshua swatted at the chokehold in frantic desperation but it was hopeless in his weakened condition and his actions only increased the speed with which the bloodstain on his stomach spread.

“She was nineteen!” The guy looked positively demented, spraying Joshua with spit as both of their faces started to turn red. “She loved you and when she finally got the chance to meet you, you called her a freak!”

“Please calm down!” Seungcheol cried out but his desperate begging was blatantly ignored. He couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. This wasn’t reality. This wasn’t what reality was supposed to look like.

“And do you know what she did?” The tirade continued, getting more and more similar to a screech with each passing moment. “She killed herself, you worthless bastard! She fucking killed herself because the one person she loved above anything else refused to love her back! She did everything for you! She went to every fan sign! Every concert! She wrote to you every day and even took a plane halfway across the fucking country to come see you!”

And then it clicked.

The girl who had written detailed accounts of what she wanted to do with Joshua’s body, who had broken into their home and stolen his private possessions, had violated him at an airport in front of hundreds of people – was the sister of the guy who now held Joshua’s life in his hands.

The sister who was dead.

The sister who was dead because of Joshua.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got trigger happy.  
> Plus, I'm really excited about this new story I'm writing and I want to post it but I am morally obliged not to until this story is done so, you know ... I'm getting impatient.


	20. 제 19 장

           It was when the man with the beetroot-red face and the vein bulging in his temple moved towards the edge of the building with perfectly clear intentions that Seungcheol finally came to his senses.

He leapt forwards, but only far enough so that he was in Joshua’s line of sight, and yelled over the sound of the guy’s wheezing breaths.

“His name is Joshua Hong! He was born December 30, 1995, in Los Angeles! He hasn’t seen his parents in two years and he never stops saying how much he wants to go home to them! He has two hyungs who love him to the ends of the Earth and ten dongsaengs who would follow him into Hell if he asked them to! There are thousands of people around the world that he’s helped with his voice and his dedication and his need to do good but he can still do more! When he met your sister, he was scared out of his mind! He wasn’t thinking! He would never hurt anyone! He’s the gentlest person I’ve ever met! He’s twenty-three years old! He’s barely lived! He’s someone’s child and I’m supposed to take care of him! You kill him and you kill me, too … You kill him … and you kill me, too.”

He stood there, breathing laboured and arms screaming in pain from being held aloft for so long. He had remembered Wonwoo telling him that you were less likely to be murdered if your potential killer knew as many personal details about you as possible during one of his random-ass trivial moments, and so he had thrown everything he had with tears streaming down his face and desperation in his voice.

The man still hadn’t looked away from Joshua who had long since screwed his eyes shut and looked like he was trying to concentrate on not passing out. Seungcheol wondered how long it had been since he’d sent Jihoon for help. It had seemed like hours.

“Please …” he whispered as the three of them remained frozen. The only sign that they weren’t wax figures expertly crafted into postures of rage and terror, was the way their clothes and hair were buffeted in all directions by the relentless winds.

The man was shaking. And this time, it wasn’t with anger. His muscles were contorting with something more profound than the fury he had been feeling just seconds ago. And Seungcheol recognised it from when his mother had told him his grandmother had died. It was grief.

“What was her name?” Seungcheol spoke tentatively, terrified of issuing another outburst that could so easily be lethal.

“Jaehee.”

“What’s your name?”

“Jaeseok.”

“I am so sorry, Jaeseok-ssi.”

And Jaeseok lifted his gaze to meet Seungcheol’s, eyes brimming with unshed tears. His grip on Joshua’s throat loosened and then he let go altogether.

Joshua sank to his knees, one hand clutching at his abused neck and the other wrapped around his bleeding stomach. He took in great lungfuls of air even as his face continued to drain of colour, his fingers stained scarlet.

Seungcheol started towards him, reaching out his arms, and then the unthinkable happened.

The door burst open with a ricocheting crash to reveal two heavily-armed police officers, both of whom strode across the rooftop with their guns drawn.

“Show us your hands!”

“Get down on your knees!”

“On the ground now!”

Seungcheol saw the change in Jaeseok’s eyes. He saw the resignation turn to fear and then the fear turn to anger and before he could process what was happening, both he and this terrifying beast of a man were lunging for Joshua.

Arms wrapped around Seungcheol’s chest, restraining him, incarcerating him even as he beat at them in an attempt to relinquish their hold. He heard his name being shouted in his ear but he couldn’t distinguish whose voice it was over the sound of his own screaming.

Jaeseok had Joshua.

There was blood on both of them.

The gun went off.

There was more blood.

Someone fell.

Someone disappeared off the edge of the roof, hurtling towards an instant death on the concrete below that would break every bone in their body.

Someone died.

And Seungcheol screamed.


	21. 제 20 장

         It was over in less than ten seconds.

Jihoon had sprinted up the stairs to the rooftop, following the stampede from the security officer’s boots and the stumbling footsteps of Soonyoung’s sneakers. Ahead of him, he saw the door banging open, the light painting a column of illumination on the opposite wall before the air was rife with bellowing voices.

Soonyoung had reacted while Jihoon still stood like an uninstructed SIMM, unable to comprehend the scene before him. He watched two of his hyungs wrestling on the ground, Soonyoung with his arms locked around Seungcheol’s waist as he fought to keep his leader restrained.

The gunshot cut through the air and Jihoon instinctively dropped to his stomach, the force of the noise reverberating in his ears at a painful pitch. Clamping his hands to either side of his head in an attempt to silence the assault on his auditory nerves, he peered upwards and, through the blurred vision in his watering eyes, he saw a figure teetering on the precipice of life before he vanished from sight and plummeted into oblivion.

Then someone pressed PLAY on reality and Jihoon found he could move and hear and speak once more. He scrambled to his feet, staggering across the rooftop to where Seungcheol was cradling Joshua’s limp body. His knees gave out and he crashed onto the concrete beside them, ignoring the painful jarring sensation that ricocheted up his legs.

His hands reached out, scrabbling at Joshua in his desperation the grasp some part of him, and his breaths dragged out in painful wheezes.

He was nowhere near as calm as he had been that night. He was nowhere near as composed. He had just witnessed someone dying. He had seen Jaeseok’s arms windmilling in a frantic attempt to propel themselves back to safety and then he had seen him hurtling to his death.

He had seen someone die. But it wasn’t his someone. It wasn’t the someone who mattered.

It wasn’t Joshua.

“Is he hit?” It was Soonyoung who asked the question, reaching for the bloodstained T-Shirt. “Did he get shot?”

“No,” Seungcheol breathed as he cradled Joshua’s head against his chest, eyes closed and lips whispering words of thanks to God. “He’s okay. He’s going to be okay.”

“Oh, fuck … fuck … fuck …” Soonyoung sobbed, clutching at Joshua’s shirt and burying his face in the crook of his hyung’s neck. “I’m sorry … I’m so, so sorry … Oh, my God …”

Jihoon sat back on his heels, feeling the terror being sapped from his body in the same way the tension drained from his shoulders. _He’s okay._ Those words had never sounded so wonderful.

He’d thought they were going to lose him. From the moment he sprinted through the hospital corridors, yelling for security or police or somebody to _please_ help him, right up until the moment he watched the bullet lodging itself into flesh and bone, he’d thought they’d lost him.

But they hadn’t. He was here and breathing and pale and pasty and sweating and … he needed a doctor.

“Hyung,” Jihoon whispered, fastening his grip on Seungcheol’s shoulder. “Hyung, he needs to go back inside. It’s freezing and he’s bleeding.”

There was a brief pause where he wondered if Seungcheol had even heard him but then the leader nodded his head, slipped his arms underneath Joshua and heaved him off the cold concrete.

One of the policemen tried to pull the injured boy from his grasp but he refused, clinging to the body he held right up until the moment he saw the doctor. Right up until the moment he _knew_ Joshua was going to be safe.

As he lay his dongsaeng on the gurney, kissed his forehead and watched them rushing him back to surgery to repair his mangled stitches, he promised himself that that would be the last time he ever let Joshua go.

He didn’t think he would ever be able to forget the terror of seeing those two people on the edge of the rooftop, one of them sagging to the ground as they finally succumbed to bloodloss and the other toppling into nothingness as a bullet pierced their skull.

 _No_ , he decided as he enveloped a sobbing Soonyoung in his arms. He would never let him go again.  

“It’s okay,” he murmured, whether he was talking to himself, Soonyoung or Jihoon he did not know. “We’re okay.”

He met the smallest’s eye over Soonyoung’s shoulder and they both reached out at the same time, their hands snagging so Seungcheol could pull Jihoon into their combined hug in the middle of the hospital corridor.

“We’re all going to be okay.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly there. One more to go.


	22. 제 21 장

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go … Last one
> 
> Drama Recommendation:  
> "When A Man Loves"

       Joshua could hear them, hundreds of thousands of unified voices chanting ritualistically behind the glare of the spotlights.

_SEVENTEEN … SEVENTEEN … SEVENTEEN … SEVENTEEN …_

He heard his own name ripped across umpteen vocal chords, screeched into a stadium for all to hear but instead of the feeling of power and gratitude it had brought him before everything had happened, all he felt was fear.

What if he let them down? The carats … the members … What if he had another anxiety attack like at the fansign? What if they had to rush him off stage again while apologising profusely to bewildered spectators and trying to shield him from flashing cameras?

He’d thought he was going to die that day. He had been convinced that out there in the crowd of beaming faces was a masked figure with a blade thirsty for his blood. The only thing that had pulled him back to reality before he’d passed out from sheer lack of oxygen, was Seungcheol’s arms around him, repeating the same mantra again and again and again.

What if it all happened again? This time, there would be no way to protect him from the media that would swoop down with their talons drawn and their beaks squawking for gossip.

“Hey.”

The touch on his shoulder was feather light, as gentle as it could possibly be, and yet he still flinched under the sudden contact. His head snapped to the side but he felt his heart rate beginning to slow at the sight of his leader’s apologetic face.

“Why don’t we take a step back?” Seungcheol muttered and Joshua nodded gratefully, allowing his hyung to take his arm and lead him away from the others, all of whom were bouncing up and down in excitement at the prospect of the first concert in months.

It had taken a long, long time for Seungkwan and Mingyu to finally relax and begin to smile like they used to. It had taken even longer for Jeonghan and Soonyoung to forgive themselves.

Joshua could still remember the way Jeonghan had clutched his hand when he’d woken up after his second surgery, sobbing apology after apology and promising never to leave him again. And he remembered Soonyoung curled up in a ball on the floor, his head bowed in shame and silent tears slipping down his cheeks. The only words he had spoken for days were “I should have known.”

But eventually, many counsellors and therapy sessions and group hugs later, Soonyoung and Jeonghan had accepted that what had happened had happened but Joshua was alive and recovering and that was all that mattered.

They slipped into the now-empty changing room and Seungcheol sank onto the sofa, pulling Joshua down beside him. He never once let go.

It had taken Joshua a while to realise just how touchy the others had gotten since his discharge. There was always a hand on his shoulder or an arm interlocked with his or a body between him and a stranger.

There was some part of him that wanted to tell them to stop, that he was fine, but at the same time, he craved their protection. Being a hair’s breadth away from death twice had instilled a kind of fear within him that he didn’t think was possible. He had never imagined that one simple thought could paralyse him where he stood and quash the air from his lungs in a heartbeat.

So when those hands appeared on his shoulder, he reached up to touch them and when those arms interlocked with his, he would give them a grateful squeeze, just to convince himself that they were flesh and blood and determined to keep him safe.

“Do you want me to tell you again?” Seungcheol asked, winding his fingers around Joshua’s trembling hand.

He nodded wordlessly.

“There are over two hundred staff on security, all fully-trained and stationed at every entrance and exit as well as in the wings and surrounding the stage. The fans will be behind fixed barriers with at least a three metre distance between them and us. Every single person in that stadium has been scanned and searched and sent through a metal detector and if there was even the slightest hint of a threat, it would have been eradicated on the spot. I will be by your side the entire time. You give me the signal and I will drop everything to get you whatever you need. No one is going to touch you. Never again, Shua. They’d have to go through all twelve of us first.”

Joshua bobbed his head, giving Seungcheol’s hand a thankful squeeze for the confirmation that had been repeated to him over a dozen times and yet still needed to be refreshed in times of panic.

“And the other thing?” he whispered, looking up at Seungcheol hopefully. He knew it was childish and pathetic but there was no kind of relief that compared with what he felt when he heard the specific words he had come to crave.

Seungcheol smirked but not with amusement. With fondness. He swivelled himself off the sofa and knelt in front of Joshua, taking both his hands in his own and looking him straight in the eye like he had all those weeks ago in the kitchen when it had all started.

“You are your own. Your decisions, your body, your life. Nobody can take that from you and _nobody_ can own you.”

“Thank you.” There were tears burning his eyes but he blinked them back, too embarrassed to let them fall. 

There was a timid creak as the door opened and Mingyu’s head peered into the room.

“They want us on stage in two minutes,” he relayed and Seungcheol gave Joshua a questioning look.

“You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” he said but Joshua shook his head as he rose from his chair and swiped at the moisture in his eyes.

“My job. My brothers. My fans. My life.”

He straightened his back, taking a deep breath without lifting his eyes from Seungcheol’s encouraging grin.

“Mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First: Thank you so much for reading my story and sticking with it, whether you found it at chapter one or halfway through or if you’re reading it after it’s all been published. Thank you very much.  
> Second: The response in comments absolutely stunned me. I’ve never had that many, even though I know half of them were me, but it’s my bubble and I shall not burst my bubble.  
> Third: EXO FINALLY HAD THEIR COMEBACK!!!!!!! I’VE WAITED FIFTY-SEVEN YEARS FOR THIS!!!!!!  
> Fourth: I usually write my stories with some meaningful backstory behind them, most of the time it’s something I’ve been through myself, but this story doesn’t really have one. It’s kind of just that: a story. I suppose if it did have a meaning it would be that you can’t own somebody, especially celebrities.  
> Fifth: Thank you again for your support and compliments. They really helped me get up every morning.  
> Sixth: I’m just about to post the first chapter of my first NCT story and it is the saddest one I’ve ever written. For any of you who’ve read my other stories, you’ll know that that is saying something.  
> Seventh: Look after yourselves. Be happy. Relieve your stress. Take care of yourself. Go on walks. Eat chocolate. Be you. :)


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